


Worse than Death

by Whisperwing



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ajin | Demi-Humans (Ajin), Ajin!Neil, Alternate Universe - Ajin Fusion, Angst, Blood and Injury, Boys In Love, Death, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, IBMs (Ajin), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Slow Burn, Violence, but probably not as slow as canon, consider: the mafia... but with ajin, tbh Neil is always panicking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisperwing/pseuds/Whisperwing
Summary: There was only one option. The idea made his heart lurch, but he swallowed down his fear, picturing his mother’s face. She would have beat him harshly for even the second of hesitation he allowed himself. 'Don’t get caught. You can’t afford to be afraid. There are far worse things than pain.'He pressed the blade to his throat.====Death is really the least of Neil's worries, especially as the Foxes finally give him something to live for.Ajin!AU
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Worse than Death

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Ajin!AU, although don't worry if you haven't seen/read Ajin: Demi-Human since I'll explain the premise and everything in the story. 
> 
> Tbh although I've written a fair amount of fanfiction in my life, I haven't posted anything anywhere in years. This fic is a little messy but I just really needed to put it out there because I CANNOT stop obsessing about aftg and I just really want to find some people to yell about it with... So here I am.
> 
> Enjoy!

Neil was never very good at keeping up with current events. He snuck into libraries to surf the web when he could, typing in keywords like “butcher of baltimore” and “weninski” and “local crime data”, but he never lingered on anything that wasn’t directly related to his survival. He hadn’t even heard who had been elected president until months after the inauguration. 

But occasionally news managed to reach him by chance. A newspaper in the trash, a conversation overheard. On a sunny day in Millport Arizona, the news found him sitting in a cafe, nursing a coffee and staring blankly at a small television on the wall. The noises of the cafe crowd reduced the newscaster's voice to an indistinguishable murmur, but banners scrolling along the bottom of the screen gave Neil the gist of what was being discussed. 

_ Government Coverup: Ajin Exposed _

_ Magic or Science? The Mystery of the Ajin _

_ New York Scientist Explains Ajin Immortality _

_ Ajin, _ Neil mused to himself, taking a slow sip of coffee. He wondered where the name had come from. The rumors about immortals hiding among humans had been circulating for decades: strange creatures who looked exactly like normal people, except that they could never die. No matter what injury they sustained, they would always heal. It was little more than a legend, a story to scare children with, but those who lived in the shadows knew. There were people, _ things, _ living in hiding all around the world that could never be explained. 

And now suddenly the whole world was in an uproar. There had been a leak which revealed that a small collection of these creatures were being held at a U.S. government base. Video footage revealed impossible regenerations, even a head growing back onto a decapitated body. The whole nation was in an uproar about the revelations, caught between fear of the unknown and outrage at the government. 

_ They’re dangerous. They’re not human. Lock them all up. _

_ Of course they’re human! They have families. They talk and walk and eat the same as we do. They don’t deserve this. _

_ How could they keep this from us? We deserve to know what dangers might be lurking in our own cities. _

The name Ajin finally emerged from the chaos. A clean new label for the strange phenomenon. They were no longer monsters, nor were they people: just  _ Ajin _ .

Neil drained the rest of his coffee from the cup and then pulled back to study the messy scrawl of his name on the side. He had gone by Neil Josten for over four months, but the term still felt like a loose fit. He wondered if that was how Ajin felt about their new name: just a series of sounds and letters trying to define something undefinable. 

He was almost done with high school in Millport. In just a few short weeks, he would leave the label “Neil Josten” behind. The few people that remembered him here - maybe his coach, one of his teammates, a few classmates that had taken a liking to him - would cling to the name, hold it in their memory, but “Neil” had only ever been an empty shadow. He had never been Neil, never been anything. 

The thought sent a little spike of pain through his heart, and he crumpled the empty cup in his hand, pushing himself back from the table. He was nothing, and he would always be nothing, no matter what new label he chose. That was the only way to stay safe. Ajin were just another cautionary tale - once something was labeled, people would try to study it, define it,  _ see _ it. And Neil couldn’t afford to be seen. 

The news on the television had switched to a different topic. The people in the cafe continued to chatter and laugh. Neil discarded the cup into a trash can on his way out, and refused to consider how the distorted name on the cup would be one of the only marks he would leave in Millport. 

* * *

Neil knew that he should have left as soon as he had his high school diploma in hand. If he were still with his mother, he would have left Millport months ago, long before his face could become recognizable. But he was tired, and didn’t know where to go next, and just wanted to play Exy for a little while longer. He truly planned to leave Neil Josten behind the day after his graduation - he’d already purchased Gray Bus tickets to Austin Texas - but he decided he could afford one more night of sleeping with a roof over his head. He’d only been squatting in this particular house for the past week, ever since the locker rooms had officially been closed for the year, and it was near the outskirts for town. No one seemed to give it a second glance. 

He woke to the sound of quiet shuffling in the entryway. Years of life on the run triggered an immediate rush of adrenaline, and within seconds he was off the floor and standing with his back against the wall, duffle bag in hand. Most of the sound came from the front of the house, but as he strained his ears, he could also make out soft footsteps coming from the back door.  _ Trapped on both sides. _

He ran through his options in his head. There were at least two people in the house, but he thought he could hear a third or fourth person in the entry. If they were just average people, he had little down that he could incapacitate them or even just push by them and escape, but the fact that it was three in the morning paired with people approaching from both sides implied that they were here specifically for him, and anyone who hunted him down knew how to fight. He couldn’t risk it. 

The house was small and the room that he was in had no windows - he had chosen it out of fear that someone might spot him sleeping through a window, but it now seemed like a mistake since accessing any of the other first floor windows would chance coming face to face with one of his attackers. Luckily, when he had first surveyed the house he had found one more exit strategy: the second story window, although not a desirable option, had a fall cushioned by bushes. The room he was in had the only stairs in the house, so hopefully he could sneak up and out before his assailants even laid eyes on him. If he kept his fall quiet, he might be able to run out of sight before they’d even realized he’d left the house. 

The fall looked a lot further than just two stories once he actually climbed onto the windowsill, and the bushes looked significantly less soft than he’d hoped. He glanced back to the dark room, letting his reluctance get the better of him for just a moment - and then he froze.

The door to the room was closed, the sounds of his pursuers still only on the first floor. When Neil had first entered the room, he had instinctively done a wall to wall sweep and confirmed that the room was completely empty. But now, in the shadowy corner, he could just barely make out someone’s standing figure. His lungs iced over. His ears rang. He couldn’t see their eyes but he felt  _ seen. _

A thump on the stairs below broke the spell, and the terror that had frozen him now propelled him into action. He could barely even consider the fall anymore as he vaulted through the window and into midair. 

He twisted himself sideways, using his shoulder to cushion the fall. Unfortunately, thick branches were hidden under the leaves of the bushes, smashing hard against his right shoulder and ankle. He managed to keep from yelling out, but only because the intense pain knocked the breath right out of his lungs. 

He only gave himself a second to catch his breath and catalog the injuries. His shoulder was the worst - probably dislocated if the numbness of his arm and the radiating pain were anything to go by. When he pushed himself onto his feet, a sharp burn flared along his right ankle, and he nearly fell over. Luckily it still managed to bear his weight, and he took off at a stumbling run. 

There was a commotion at the window, angry voices ringing out into the night, but Neil was already dodging around another house. He didn’t stop, even when the sounds of his pursuer faded out.

The pain and fear turned the journey into a haze. When his sense finally returned, he realized he was wandering alongside a road that he didn’t recognize. He had left the neighborhood behind, and although he could see tiny lights in the distance, there didn’t seem to be any buildings nearby. He wondered whether he’d left Millport entirely.

As his adrenaline rush slowed, the pain in his leg and shoulder grew, along with the sting of a thousand tiny cuts from the bushes. He sat down hard when his ankle finally wobbled and gave out completely.

Gritting his teeth, he ran through his options. He couldn’t wander on foot much farther - even if he managed to stand again, he figured he could only go another mile at most without finding a splint for his leg, and the distant lights didn’t imply that there were any good places to hide in that range. The darkness would hide him for a while if he rested in the fields that stretched along either side of the road, but he knew that the dawn would come too soon and he would have no cover in the light. 

There was only one option. The idea made his heart lurch, but he swallowed down his fear, picturing his mother’s face. She would have beat him harshly for even the second of hesitation he allowed himself.  _ Don’t get caught. You can’t afford to be afraid. There are far worse things than pain. _

He glanced up and down the road, finding it deserted, and drew his battered duffle bag into his lap. He pulled a small switchblade out of an outer pocket, flicking it open. He didn’t like blades very much, the glint of their wicked edge bringing back too many memories of his father, but his mother had made sure there was one on his person at all times. She’d train him to use it, instructed him the quickest and quietest way to slit a throat, and given many bloody demonstrations over the years. This particular knife had been hers - it hadn’t been used since her death, but he wondered if there was still blood dried under the locking mechanism.

His own arm seemed to fight him as he lifted the blade to his throat. He shut his eyes tight, trying to remind himself that it would be quick, that he wouldn’t be in pain anymore, but the sharp pressure on his skin still sent his whole body trembling.

_ This is pathetic, _ his mother sneered.  _ All of these years, everything we’ve been through, and you’re still afraid of a little blade? _

A flick of his wrist. That’s all it would take. But he felt frozen, his breath coming out in sharp gasps. The panic was almost enough to obscure the pain of his injuries again, and he wondered desperately if this was even necessary. Maybe there actually was a hiding place within walking range. He’d walked through worse pain before, surely. Maybe he didn’t have to-

A voice cut through his panic and he nearly flung the blade away from himself. Instead he forced himself to hide it quickly in his lap, snapping his head up towards the noise. 

Apparently he had been too distracted to notice a car coming down the road and pulling up beside him. There was a middle aged man peering out the driver’s side’s open window. He looked concerned, but not overly alarmed, so Neil guessed that the man hadn’t noticed the knife.  _ A small blessing _ , he thought to himself, almost hysterical. 

“Are you alright?” The man was calling, leaning out the window to get a better look at Neil. “Do you need help? We’re heading back into Millport right now if you need a ride somewhere.”

“I’m fine.” Neil’s voice was light but firm, a practiced tone that was at sharp odds with the turmoil of emotions still running through him. “I was on a run - just had to sit down for a second.” He pastes a sheepish smile on his face. 

Unfortunately that wasn’t enough to convince the man, his eyebrows furrowing further. “You don’t look so well. Is that blood on your face?”

With so many bigger concerns, Neil had forgotten about the vivid scratches that doubtlessly covered every bit of his exposed skin. “I had a disagreement with a bush,” he replied truthfully. “I’ll bandage up when I get home.” 

Much to Neil’s horror, the man ignored his reassurance and instead opened the car door, preparing to get out. Instinctive Neil shot to his feet, forgetting about his ankle until a shock of intense pain made him stumble and cry out. That was enough to propel the man out of the car and right into Neil’s space.

Neil had the knife out in front of him before he could even think. “Get away from me,” he growled, trying to prepare himself to run but almost falling again when his leg spasmed again. He grit his teeth and focus instead on keeping the blade pointed at the man.

The man came to a halt, eyes wide on the knife, and slowly raised his hands. “I’m not trying to hurt you, kid,” he said gruffly. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You can barely stand on your own. You’re alone, injured, in the middle of nowhere. If that doesn’t call for some help, I don’t know what does.”

“Fuck you,” Neil spat. “I can take care of myself.”

The man met his eyes steadily, letting his arms fall back to his side, despite Neil’s knife still trembling between them. “I’m sure you can, kid. But it doesn’t hurt to have someone help make that easier.” He gestured at the sky, which was just starting to show the tint of dawn. “It’s summer in Arizona. If I leave you lying here, you’re going to end up dead from heatstroke. I don’t need that on my conscience.”

Neil almost laughed. “Why do you care?”

“I’ve been told I have a terrible habit of picking up strays.” The man shrugged. “Let me drive you to the hospital. Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Like hell,” Neil hissed. 

The man narrowed his eyes. “No hospitals?” Neil’s face must have shown the answer, because the man nodded. “Fine. I have a friend who’s a doctor, she’s staying with me at a hotel in Millport. Let me take you to her to get checked out. She won’t ask any questions. Then you can be on your merry way.”

The idea of letting a stranger take him to an unknown hotel seemed absolutely ridiculous - even people who weren’t on the run knew better than to take that offer. “Fuck off. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Well, I’m not leaving without you. So either you can come with me and get the help you need, or we can sit here and wait until the cops come to check out what’s going on, and then  _ they’ll _ take you to the hospital.”

The word “cops” sent a new tremor of fear up Neil’s spine. “Or I could just stab you,” he snarled. “You won’t last until the police get here.”

The man cocked an eyebrow. “And what will you do after that? Just sit here with my body until they arrive? You’re not going anywhere quick, kid. So you can either come with me and get fixed up  _ without _ having to answer any questions, or you can wait for the police, and whether I’m dead or not, they won’t let you get away with staying silent.”

He wasn’t completely right. Once the man was dead, Neil wouldn’t be stuck. He had one last trick up his sleeve. But his mind still shied violently away from the thought of the knife at his throat again. 

He tried to imagine what his mother would do in this situation, but couldn’t. If his mother were here, he realized with despair, they would never be in this situation. If his mother were here, the man wouldn’t even have had the chance to pull over. They would have been long gone.

But she wasn’t here anymore. He was on his own, stuck with his own mistakes and weaknesses. She had tried so hard to train him, to prepare him for this, but he still couldn’t survive without her. This night had made that clear.

He breathed out slowly, shoving the self hatred into the back of his mind. He could deal with that if he actually managed to survive the next day. He finally let his arm drop, retracting the blade into the handle. “Fine. I’ll see your doctor. But then I’m leaving.”

The man’s smile made Neil regret not stabbing him. “Deal. The name’s Wymack, by the way. Get in, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to come scream with me about aftg or like, anything, feel free to hit me up on 100-years-too-early on Tumblr! I've also been doing a lot of aftg sketches cause I just have too much love for this series, and I'll post those there as well.


End file.
